


what will i believe

by alderations



Category: The Mechanisms (Band)
Genre: Aftercare, BDSM, Bondage, Branding, Choking, Creampie, Deepthroating, Dom/sub, Execution, Face-Fucking, Feelings, Fisting, Flogging, Gags, Gangbang (kinda), Garrotes, Gunplay (a little bit), Humiliation, M/M, Multi, Multiple Orgasms, Murder Kink, Other, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Punishment, Sexual Roleplay, Spanking, Temperature Play, Temporary Character Death, Unsafe Sex Between Immortals, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, dom jonny tm, why is there STILL not a pussy spanking tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-23
Updated: 2020-08-23
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:02:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26059192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alderations/pseuds/alderations
Summary: Jonny will never miss out on a chance to be Captain d'Ville, particularly if it involves punishing his crew for their insubordination.
Relationships: Jonny d'Ville/Lyfrassir Edda, Lyfrassir Edda/Marius von Raum, polymechs
Comments: 22
Kudos: 151





	what will i believe

**Author's Note:**

> *sprinkles the Dom Jonny Content on my lawn like birdseed* come n get it! come one come all! fresh hot jonny dville!
> 
> heed the tags as always. this is very much a pre-negotiated Scene and I tried to make that clear, but this was my first time writing this kind of intense BDSM and I would love feedback!!!!

“Inspector Second Class, Lyfrassir Edda.”

Lyf groans at the faint realization that someone’s addressing them. The lights in this room are far too bright, and their head throbs, and there’s something in that voice that makes their stomach clench with cold fear. As they look around with bleary eyes, straining to remember where they are, the lights dim a bit and a figure steps into view.

It’s Jonny, his face contorted into its usual snarl. “Take your time, Inspector. No need to over-exert yourself  _ investigating.” _

“Wh-where am I?” Lyf manages, still straining to look around. The room is barren except for the chair they’re seated on, all cold metal and steel flooring that  _ clangs  _ under Jonny’s heavy boots. “What are you…”

“Oh, good. I was worried I might’ve wrecked your pretty voice when I choked you out.” In the low light, his eyeliner looks like it’s dripping out of his eyes and staining his raging grin. “I’m glad I still get to hear you scream.”

His gaze rakes down their body as he says that, which makes Lyf very aware that they’re naked and tied to the chair too tightly to cover themself even if they tried. “Jonny, I’m—you—why am I going to be screaming?”

That’s exactly the kind of question that makes Jonny lean toward them and laugh low in his throat. Lyf hopes he can’t tell how wet they are already, given the dim light, but he probably knows regardless. “Darling Inspector,” he begins, clasping his hands in front of himself. “Your presence on this ship presents a problem for me. See, I enjoy having you around well enough—you keep our dear Baron entertained, so he’s slightly less annoying. That’s no small feat! But on the other hand,” he rests one hand on the back of the chair next to Lyf’s head, “as the  _ captain,  _ it’s up to me to keep this ship free of unwanted influences. Such as, say, cops.”

“I’m not a cop anymore, you know that,” Lyf argues. “If you didn’t want me here, you could just—”

“Ha.” Jonny slaps them with his free hand, hard enough to sting but not to leave a mark. “Unfortunately for you, I don’t answer to bargaining. You’ve already been sentenced, Lyfrassir Edda. I’m just here to carry it out.”

This time, they don’t bother trying to talk back. “Y-you’re going to kill me?”

“Not right away,” Jonny responds coyly. “Don’t look at me like that. Do you think I’m some kind of fucking humanitarian? I fully intend to make you suffer.”

Those words run down Lyf’s spine like a jolt of electricity. They try to rub their thighs together and hide just how wet they’re getting, but the ropes binding them to the chair leave them no room to struggle. “What—what about the rest of the c-crew? Did Marius agree to this, or…?”

They can tell that Jonny is barely restraining himself from a Signature d’Ville Cackle, which almost makes them crack a smile. “You don’t get it, do you? They all played nice with you, sure. Marius puts on a convincing boyfriend, he fucks you so sweetly and tells you everything’s going to be okay, but at the end of the day, he answers to  _ me.  _ As does the rest of the ship.” Jonny draws up to his full height again, arms behind his back, and sneers down at Lyf. “So for the anti-crimes of conspiracy with legal organizations and imprisonment of three Mechanisms, you, Lyfrassir Edda, are sentenced to death by asphyxiation.”

Distantly, Lyf muses that Jonny sounds like he’s trying to imitate a bad crime show and failing. “In—in that case, um, why am I naked?” They’re really just egging him on, but they can’t help themself when they see the way he runs the tip of his tongue over his teeth.

“As I said. I fully intend to have some fun with you before finishing you off.” That being said, Jonny slaps them across the face again, harder this time, and chuckles at the tiny yelp they make. “I’m already getting noises out of you, hm? This will be  _ fun.” _

He raises his hand again and then apparently thinks better of it, smirking at the when Lyf cringes in anticipation of the blow. Instead, he leans in a bit farther and pinches one of their nipples. Lyf cries out as he twists the metal bar through it, fingers unyielding. “Oh, does that feel  _ nice?”  _ he teases. “Figures. Only a slut would be that interested in Marius.”

Lyf opens their mouth to protest, because they have  _ no  _ self-restraint anymore, and Jonny backhands them. “You won’t speak unless I ask you a question. Got it?”

“Y-yes sir,” Lyf mumbles.

“Good.” Jonny lets go of their nipple and tips their chin up with one finger, then slaps them again. This time, they taste blood. “You’re a pretty little thing when you blush like that. I can see why Marius spent so long fooling around with you.” Another slap, and Lyf feels their lip split, oozing blood down their chin. Jonny’s eyes light up with something horrible and  _ deeply  _ sexy. “That’s more like it. As much as I enjoy seeing your face turn red, I don’t love this chair—really keeps me away from the parts of you I  _ want  _ to hurt. Drumbot!”

Behind him, the door to the room slides open, and Lyf’s eyes widen in surprise as Brian enters with a hefty coil of rope around one shoulder. They’re not shocked to see that Jonny enlisted him, but the fact that he’s following Jonny’s orders without question  _ is _ unusual, regardless of the way Jonny surreptitiously checks his switch as Brian walks past him. “As we planned?” Brian sighs, coming to a stop behind Lyf and planting his heavy hands on their shoulders.

“As we planned. And Inspector?” Jonny makes a show of drawing his gun, which he then uses to trace the side of Lyf’s face in a mocking caress. “If you try to make a break for it, I’ll just shoot you. I don’t think either of us would like to miss out on a bit more fun, do you?”

A cold surge of fear courses through their chest, and they start to flinch away from the gun, but Jonny holsters it before they can get anywhere. Meanwhile, Brain is meticulously untying the ropes binding Lyf to the chair, releasing first their legs and then their chest before snatching their hair in one hand and dragging them to their feet. Lyf wobbles, struggling to keep their balance, until Jonny steadies them with a hand flat on the center of their chest. “Not even going to struggle, then? That’s unfortunate. I was hoping to make you bleed a bit more.”

Lyf opens their mouth to answer, then snaps it shut and glares up at Jonny. Before they stood up, they didn’t have much time to assess the ropes keeping them in place, but now they feel the harness wrapping their chest when Brian repositions their arms behind them and starts to wrap them together with rope. Their breathing stutters when he tosses the end of the rope around something overhead, then pulls it taut. “You still want them breathing, Captain?” asks Brian.

“For now,” Jonny replies, keeping his eyes on Lyf’s face. His furious grin turns to something softer but, somehow, just as evil. “I’d like to hear them scream.”

He slaps them one more time. They spit blood at him, hitting him squarely in the chest, and Jonny just lets out a sharp cackle before turning on his heel and heading for the corner of the room behind Lyf’s chair. Now that they’re not bound, they can see what he’s digging through—a burnished box of dark wood, the contents of which they can only guess. When they crane their neck to try and get a better look, Brian pauses in his work and grabs the back of their head to turn their face away. “I won’t even bother shooting you,” the Drumbot growls, his voice lower than Lyf has ever heard it. “You have no idea how easy it would be for me to snap your neck right now.” Lyf’s legs tremble under them.

As Jonny rustles around behind them, Brian adjusts the rope attached to the chest harness until Lyf is barely balancing on their tiptoes, then comes around to their front and picks up one of their legs. He bends it with a precise grip, then starts tying their lower leg to their thigh in a series of loops, ending near their knee. Once again, he secures the rope to whatever fixture he’s using above them and tugs it so that Lyf’s knee is pulled up toward their shoulder. “Can you move your feet?”

Lyf points and flexes the foot that’s now suspended by their body, which Brian takes as an affirmative. “Don’t be too gentle with them,” Jonny calls from behind them.

“Yes, sir.”

Nervousness tightens in Lyf’s belly at the way Brian obeys his every word—Brian who was so sympathetic, so affectionate, so caring, but whose face is flat and callous as he hoists Lyf’s other leg and ties it like the first. They gasp when he finally steps away, leaving them swinging slowly from the ropes. “Lift them a bit higher, will you?” suggests Jonny. 

Brian complies. “Is that all, Captain?”

“Good work, Drumbot. You can go. But make sure my next assistant is ready, will you?” Jonny steps back into Lyf’s view while Brian leaves them alone once again, and their heart hammers in their throat. He’s holding a thin, mean-looking wooden cane in one hand, which he uses to prod at their belly and thighs as he examines them. “You have a gorgeous cunt, you know that? It’s a shame I have to ruin it.”

Leaving them on that thought (and the whimper it draws from their throat), Jonny circles them again and starts tapping the cane against their ass. The blows are light, almost gentle, as if he’s just testing to see how they’ll react, but it doesn’t take long for the mild sting to build up. Lyf whines and flexes against the ropes holding their legs up, which is apparently what Jonny was waiting for. He takes a step back with enough intent that his boots clang against the floor, and this time when the cane makes contact, it’s hard and enough to make Lyf shout.

“Does that hurt?” Jonny taunts over the sound of wood cracking against their skin over and over. Lyf just shivers. “Inspector. I asked you a question.”

They struggle to form words through the haze of pain now spreading from their ass up to their lower back. “Y-yes,” they gasp, wincing and writhing away from the relentless stinging blows. “Yes, sir,  _ please  _ it hurts—”

“Good. If only you could see how red you’re turning.” After a few more blows, he stops abruptly and listens to Lyf’s ragged pleas for a moment. Then, right when they think he’s about to tease them again, he presses the cane between their legs, rubbing the wood forcefully between their folds until it’s stained with their slick. “Oh, so you  _ are  _ enjoying this? And ruining a perfectly good cane while you’re at it. I should’ve brought the whole crew in here to use you before we’re done.”

Lyf bites their lip, knowing he’ll only hurt them more if they beg, not that it makes much of a difference either way. Jonny is already on his way back to the box in the corner, so they can only guess what he’ll bring back to torture them with next, and the anticipation makes them shudder as they twist against their bonds. “P-please,” they moan, giving in after Jonny is silent for a moment too long. “Please, Jonny, I—I’ll do whatever they want. I’ll do whatever  _ you  _ want, I’ll suck you off, I’ll let you use me,  _ anything.” _

“I’m already using you,” he responds. “No need to be such a slut about it. I’ve had enough of your whining.” Another rustle, and then he’s back in front of them again, holding a strappy steel-and-leather contraption that makes their eyes widen. “Open your mouth,” Jonny says, though he doesn’t give them time to do so on their own before he pries their lips open with one thumb and nestles the gag into place. It’s a metal ring, big enough that their jaw starts to ache as soon as Jonny secures the leather strap behind their head. “Lovely. Now you can make all the filthy noises your little heart desires, and I don’t have to listen to you complain.”

That being said, he looks them over again and grins as if a devilish idea has suddenly come to mind. “I think you’d look much nicer with a few more bruises on  _ this  _ side as well,” he comments, slowly unbuckling the belt that’s closest to his actual pants. It’s a relatively simple one, compared to some of Jonny’s more unique fashion choices, but even the sight of him unwrapping the leather from his midriff and snapping it against his hand has Lyf whining and fighting against the ropes. “Are you ready?”

Lyf doesn’t have time to process the question before the belt snaps against their left thigh, and they scream. With the gag in place, their begging is just senseless noise, which only fuels Jonny’s self-satisfied laughter as he pulls back and whips the belt against the same spot again. Lyf counts two, three, four, five strikes before Jonny moves a few inches closer to their center and gives them a moment of relief. But he repeats this over and over again, moving around their thighs and spanking the same spot in short bursts until they’re wailing. Welts blossom on their skin, crimson and shining; only once their thighs are covered in marks does Jonny change tack and start hitting their belly. He moves in a bit closer so that the belt isn’t smacking them quite as hard, but Lyf still writhes away from every blow. Their eyes are wet, and they’re struggling to keep from drooling, though they know it’s a lost cause with the gag in their mouth.

Once their stomach is as bruised as their legs, Jonny pinches their nipple again and leans in toward them. “You really are beautiful,” he tells them, voice more earnest than they expect. “Especially when you’re crying. Do you think you’re above us? That you’re any different from us because we’re  _ pirates,  _ and you’re just here by circumstance?”

Lyf shakes their head, then tilts it back to try and swallow some of the spit pooling in their mouth. It doesn’t work. “M—mph,” they answer, because Jonny  _ told  _ them to answer his questions, so they’re going to try.

“Look at you, following directions! That certainly doesn’t make you one of us.” Jonny’s face twists back into a scowl. “Still, you deserve a bit of a reward for that. Thankfully I have someone lined up to help.” Before Lyf has time to wonder who he’s talking about, Jonny takes a step back and brings the belt down on their cunt with a  _ crack.  _ After being so understimulated for so long, waiting for  _ something  _ to touch them, the pain makes their ears ring and their vision white out. They don’t hear the door opening again, but they feel the ropes shifting as they’re lowered to the ground. A cool hand on their shoulder balances them before they can topple over after their knees hit the floor.

“You got me a present?” Tim’s voice rings out above them, brash and mocking. If Lyf is drooling a bit more than they were a second ago, well, that’s their business. “You shouldn’t have, Cap. I could’ve found myself a nice mouth to fuck on my own!”

As they reorient themselves, Lyf takes in Tim’s cock inches from their face and, behind him, Jonny leaning against the wall with a foreboding sneer. “They’re not for  _ you,  _ Gunpowder. You’re just doing me a favor.”

Lyf looks up in time to see Tim rolling his eyes. “Yeah, whatever, I’ll do you a fucking  _ favor  _ and stuff my cock in this pretty little thing. Because you’re the Captain, and everything is about you.” If Jonny protests, Lyf can’t hear it over the sound of Tim grabbing a fistful of their hair and yanking them forward until he can shove his dick through the ring gag and into their mouth. It slides hot and thick across their tongue after so many minutes of emptiness, and even though they can’t get much suction with their mouth forced open, they still work at the underside of Tim’s cock with their tongue just to hear him groan and curse under his breath. “I can’t tell if Marius has you well-trained or if you’ve always been so eager to please under that snooty disguise.”

“I can answer that for you,” Jonny calls.

Tim barks a laugh. “Good thing I didn’t ask you.”

As his fingers scratch Lyf’s scalp, getting a better grip on their hair, they tip forward in an effort to swallow Tim’s cock deeper. He moans again, louder this time, and starts to rock his hips against them, gentle enough that they don’t choke but with enough pressure that he nudges the back of their throat every time. Ungagged, Lyf is fairly confident in their oral skills, but it’s frustrating to be unable to  _ suck  _ while Tim thrusts deeper and deeper into their throat. They tilt their head up to accommodate him, searching for his eyes and quivering when they find his steel gaze watching them with nothing but contempt. Tim has never been the friendliest of the Mechanisms, but Lyf respects him—the precision with which he maintains his weaponry, his endless witty retorts to Jonny’s bullshit, his incredible voice. As much as Lyf… feels for Marius, even his voice doesn’t soothe them the way Tim’s does. Or did. They don’t feel particularly soothed as Tim splays a hand across their cheek and starts moving their head in time with his thrusts.

It doesn’t take long for Lyf’s head to grow fuzzy, but when they try to pull back and gulp down a breath, a third hand presses them back onto Tim’s cock. They look around, confused, but they can’t really see anything other than the frayed hem of Tim’s shirt in front of their nose. “‘S just me,” a voice comes from just behind them, and all of a sudden they’re aware of the glowing warmth at their back.  _ Ashes.  _ “Finish Tim off, and then I’ve got something even better for you.”

Lyf shivers. Even with their head pinned in place for Tim to fuck, they adore Ashes, both from a place of mutual nonbinary admiration and as someone who, in the middle of a fucking execution, speaks to them kindly. So they try to be good for them. Tim’s hands clench tighter around their head, and the ache in their jaw starts to fade as greyed-out stars appear in the edges of their vision. They can’t tell if they’re gagging on Tim’s cock or their own spit—but that question is answered for them when Tim forces himself into their throat and comes with a soft  _ “fuck!”  _ and a spasm.

“Nice work, Gunpowder,” Jonny comments. Lyf feels Tim’s hand leave their hair, probably to flip Jonny off, before he finally pulls back enough to let them breathe. If they had more energy, they’d lap the last strands of cum off the head of his cock. “Oh, aren’t you just  _ debauched.” _

Once Tim moves aside, Lyf gets a better look at Jonny, who has apparently crouched on the floor to watch from their level. “Ngh—eeah,” they beg, before trying to swallow and failing. Cum mixes with the drool dripping down their chin and onto their chest. “Nh—ah—”

“Don’t bother. He’s not gonna let you talk any time soon.” Ashes’ hand caresses their shoulder, and Lyf leans into the heat of their body, desperate for every scrap of positive touch they can get. “Take a deep breath, okay?”

Confused, Lyf does as they’re told, expecting either another cock in their face or the return of Jonny’s belt. Instead, they’re greeted with pain so intense and searing that they double over, screaming even though their voice comes out hoarse and choked, and they don’t even know if their eyes are open because all they see is  _ red-white-hot burning  _ that ebbs and swells and finally starts to taper off when they’re dragged upright by the hair. “Fucked up the design,” Ashes grumbles, prodding at their shoulder, which has already started to go numb, even though they know it ought to  _ hurt.  _ Some distant part of them registers the smell of burning flesh. “Shame. Not that it’ll matter in a few hours, but still.”

They let go of Lyf and step away, following Tim back toward the door, while Jonny takes hold of the ropes and starts hoisting Lyf up again. Their body heaves with silent sobs, drawn out by a combination of lingering pain and shock; with what little coherence they have left, they wonder how the fuck Ashes even got into the room without them noticing, much less with a hot branding iron.

Before they can debate with themself any further, Jonny re-fastens the rope keeping them suspended and unbuckles the gag from behind their head, removing the metal ring and massaging their aching jaw as their mouth finally falls closed. “Can I get a color, Lyf?” he requests as he traces one finger through the mess of fluids on their chest.

“G- _ hic- _ green.” They’re still sobbing, but they figure that’s to be expected. Regardless, Jonny gives them another moment to breathe while he sets the gag aside and pokes around with the rest of his equipment. They have a feeling they know what’s coming next, and even through the dull pain of the brand radiating down from their shoulder, the thought fills them with desperate need.

“Good.” Jonny’s voice slides back into its captainly scorn before he steps back to where they can see him. “Tim did a nice job with your mouth, I think, and Ashes… well, they’re Ashes. But I still want more from you before we’re done, dear Inspector. Can you handle that?”

His words are a taunt, a provocation, and Lyf has to bite their tongue to keep from answering in kind. “I d-don’t know,” they answer with a bit more honesty as he approaches them once more.

Jonny just shakes his head. “Let’s find out, shall we? I know you’ve been dripping this entire time.” With no other warning, he shoves two fingers into Lyf, curling hard against their walls and then spreading them. “Hm. Might be a bit of a stretch, but I doubt a slut like you will have much trouble. Marius!”

_ Oh.  _ No matter how hard they try, Lyf can’t hide the way their lip trembles when the door opens yet again and Marius—their  _ partner _ —steps through. He’s already naked, unlike Jonny, and he looks strangely small with his hands behind his back and his myriad accessories missing. “Yes, Captain?”

“I’ve been saving them for you,” Jonny replies, halfway between sickly-sweet and cruel. “I need someone to get their cunt nice and ready for me.”

For a split second, Marius looks up and meets Lyf’s eyes, and then his gaze is on the floor at their feet. “I can do that, sir.”

Lyf forgets how to speak when Marius crosses the room, grabs their hips, and starts rutting his cock against their core, barely brushing their clit with every movement until he’s hard and well-slicked. “M-Marius,” they manage at last, while he finally lines himself up and spreads them open with one hand. “Please, please listen to me, he’s going to—”

“Shut up, Edda.” Jonny smacks them with something else—a flogger, maybe?—just as Marius buries himself to the hilt, and Lyf yells in surprise. “We already talked about this. Captain comes before sweet little mortal pets, no matter how much you  _ like  _ them.”

Marius’s fingers dig into Lyf’s thighs at those words, while they struggle against the ropes and thrash their head to try and glare at Jonny. “You—what did you do to him? He’s—he wouldn’t—”

“Clearly you don’t understand what it means to be an immortal space pirate.” Another blow from the flogger. “You’re a  _ toy,  _ Lyfrassir. We all get to play with you, and when you’re no longer useful, we  _ dispose  _ of you.”

It’s no use trying to respond when Marius grabs their chest harness with one hand and their ass with the other. They’ll have bruises from the metal fingers gripping their flesh, if they have enough time left for those bruises to form. “M-M-a-a-arius,” they stutter, voice breaking at every thrust, body clenching and shuddering around him. “I—I—please, y-you’re... This isn’t—you’re not—I know you’re not… oh  _ fuck.”  _ Any train of thought they’d been holding onto fades as Jonny reaches around them to smear their own drool down their chest and rub their clit in harsh circles. “J-Jonny, I’m gonna—”

“I didn’t say you could come, Inspector. Certainly not while you’re refusing to use my  _ title.” _

They grit their teeth and fight back the wave of stimulation rising through their body. Between Jonny’s fingers, Marius’s cock, and the cum cooling on their chin in contrast with the burning pain in their shoulder, they can barely keep a coherent thought in their mind, much less keep themself from coming. “Captain.  _ Please,”  _ they manage.

Jonny’s teeth graze the back of their neck as he grins. “That’s more like it. Make them come, Marius.”

Lyf looks up in time to see Marius’s face contort with effort, though they can’t tell if it’s because he’s fucking  _ hammering  _ them or because he’s doing everything in his power to avoid eye contact. His flesh hand trembles where it grips the rope.  _ “Marius,”  _ they moan again, as he finally looks up at them, face stoic and defeated. It’s not something that Lyf has put much thought toward in the past, but the image of Marius pinned so thoroughly under Jonny’s thumb gives them a weirdly powerless thrill. Then Marius kisses them, as if that’ll somehow assuage an ounce of guilt, and Lyf sobs into his open mouth as Jonny’s fingers take them apart.

“Does that feel good?” Jonny snarls. Lyf has no idea whether he’s addressing them or Marius, so they nod and hope for the best. “You love when your cocksleeve comes for you, don’t you? I know what you want,  _ Baron.  _ Don’t say I don’t take care of my crew.”

Marius breaks away from Lyf’s mouth and leans his forehead against theirs, eyes shut and arms shaking with the effort of holding Lyf where he wants them. “Y-yes sir,” he mumbles.

“The more you prepare them, the less they’re going to  _ hurt  _ when I finally get my hands on them. So I suggest you fuck them like you  _ mean it.” _

Yet another rush of fear builds in Lyf’s throat as Marius takes Jonny’s advice to heart and starts slamming into them deep enough to make them cry. Jonny pulls his hand away and steps back, leaving them floating in Marius’s unstable grip. Apparently gathering his resolve, Marius straightens and looks Lyf up and down, taking in the mess of spit, cum, and tears shining on their face and the red bruises staining their thighs. Lyf watches as something tender and hurt flashes across his eyes, then hardens. “You say you saved them for me as if I haven’t already used them in ways you’ve never even thought of,  _ Captain.” _

Jonny returns with the flogger again, now flicking it against Lyf’s outer thighs in between each of Marius’s thrusts. “And yet you’ve made me wait so long to kill them. Have you gone soft, Marius? You didn’t think you  _ really  _ loved them, did you?”

He can’t see it from where he’s standing, but Lyf feels Marius tense, his movements erratic. When they try to look up at him, he avoids their eyes again. “Marius?” Lyf asks, genuinely trying to check on him, though it comes out like another breathy plea.

“You know who you are, von Raum. And you might think you love them, but those petty little feelings will—”

“Yellow.” Marius stops moving and grits his teeth, staring blankly through Lyf’s chest.

All at once, Jonny is at their side, resting a hand on Marius’s shoulder and examining his face with a sincere frown. “Are you alright? Too far?”

“P-please don’t—don’t tell me I—I’m. Just. Don’t make me question my feelings, okay?”

Jonny looks at him, looks at Lyf, and then rubs his hand across Marius’s back and presses a soft kiss to his temple. “Alright. You said before that you wanted me to make fun of you, just—”

“Don’t tell me that I’m—that I’m  _ not  _ feeling something when I am. If that makes sense. S-sorry,” Marius stutters. “It’s—it’s not—it’s not a big deal, I just…”

“It is a big deal if it hurts you,” Jonny interrupts. “I won’t do it again. Do you want to stop?”

As if remembering that he’s still balls-deep in Lyf, Marius shivers and starts to move again. “Not remotely. Certainly not when I actually have your  _ permission  _ to fuck them.”

“Oh, now you’ve done it.” The cold cruelty of Captain d’Ville slides back into place, and Marius yelps when Jonny starts wielding the flogger at him this time. “You really wanted to  _ remind  _ me that you’re overdue for a punishment? Fucking pain slut.”

Marius shivers, building back up to a pace that leaves Lyf feeling weightless. “I’m sorry, C-Captain, I wasn’t— _ ah _ —thinking,” he pants.

“Don’t stop fucking them, or I won’t let you come in them.” The rhythmic  _ slap  _ of the whipping keeps Lyf grounded, just barely, but they’re still hanging on to Jonny’s every word as he lists Marius’s transgressions. “For sneaking a fucking  _ cop  _ on board without permission,” he begins, “you get five lashes.” Lyf feels every one as Marius drives into them with all the force of Jonny’s blows. “For  _ lying  _ to me about sneaking a cop on board without permission, you get five lashes.” Marius’s chest is flushed red and heaving with every breath. “For fucking them without permission, and without even offering them to me… twenty lashes.”

That takes longer, and while Jonny counts the floggings under his breath, Marius buries his face in Lyf’s shoulder and keens. “I-I-I won’t d-do it again,” he promises over the sound of leather hitting flesh and Lyf’s choked moans.

“I know you won’t! Because I’m punishing you!” Four more slaps, and then he tosses the flogger to the side, leaving Marius gasping and shaking through a moment of respite while he goes back to the box in the corner. “How many times would you say that our lovely Inspector has fucked  _ you?” _

Marius looks up at him, resting his chin on Lyf’s shoulder; it feels weird to be so thoroughly  _ held  _ by him right now, but they’re not complaining. “I don’t know, Jonny, they—I—we do a lot of things?”

“That’s.  _ Captain.  _ To you.”

Lyf feels Marius’s breathing stutter when he realizes his slip-up. “Y-yes sir. S-sorry, sir.”

Another minute of rustling, and then Jonny steps back into sight, carrying something that looks like a cat o’ nine tails with tiny glowing lights sprinkled throughout the cords. He flicks a switch on the side of the handle, and it hums to life at a pitch that makes Lyf’s heart race. “For getting fucked without my permission, some  _ unspecified  _ number of times, you get twenty lashes.” Marius lets out a reflexive sob into the crook of Lyf’s neck. “And for continued insubordination, another twenty.”

The first time the vibrolash hits Marius, Lyf feels it—his hips stutter and grind into them, his hands clutch wildly at the ropes holding them up, and he whines in their ear. “Count for me, Marius,” Jonny commands.

“One.” The word is tremulous and feeble, even though Marius is still fucking Lyf like his life depends on it. “Two.” The sizzle of electricity on skin makes Lyf’s heart pound. “Three.” One tip of the vibrolash misses Marius and hits Lyf’s thigh instead, and they jump. “F-four.”

By five lashes, Marius is crying openly, his tears leaving wet spots on Lyf’s shoulder when he sinks his teeth into their neck. “I can’t hear you,” Jonny barks when the next count is muffled against Lyf’s skin. By ten, Lyf isn’t sure how Marius is still standing, given how violently his legs tremble under them.

“P-pl-ple-ease, Cap-Capta-in, I’m—I c-c-an’t—”

Jonny shuts him up with another lash. “Should’ve thought about that before disobeying me, then. How many is that?”

“F-f-fourt-teen,” Marius gasps. “I’m g-gonna come.”

“Oh, is  _ that  _ why you’re complaining?” Jonny laughs. “You’re such a dirty fucker, I can’t even punish you without you getting off on it. Fine, you can come. But if you do, the Inspector takes the rest of your punishment for you.”

Anticipation rises in Lyf’s throat as Marius sobs again and shakes his head, still avoiding Lyf’s eyes. “I can’t. I’m s-sorry, I can’t k-keep…”

On the eighteenth lash, Lyf feels his hips stutter and crash into them one last time, but Jonny gets to twenty before taking pity on the squirming, crying wreck that is Marius. His cock throbs inside them; when Jonny plants a hand on his shoulder and pulls him away, they feel a hot dribble of cum spill out of their hole.

“On your knees,” Jonny commands, though Marius is shaking hard enough that he doesn’t need to be told twice. Even in his current state, he’s staring at Lyf’s cunt with a hunger that makes them flush. “You don’t need to count, Edda. Just remember that this is Marius’s fault, and try not to scream  _ too  _ loudly.”

Living with the Mechanisms, Lyf has heard the words  _ twenty kisses of the vibrolash  _ enough times to give the phrase a permanent address in their brain. That doesn’t stop them from arching their whole body in a near-caricature of agony the first time Jonny actually whips them, because the damn thing  _ hurts.  _ The cords alone are enough to lacerate their reddened skin, but the electricity makes their muscles seize and contract so hard that they can feel their teeth grinding with every lash. Blood seeps from the wounds on their thighs and flies through the air in shimmering droplets as Jonny rains down blows with a feverish violence. Lyf tries to count, to know when it’s going to be over, but they can’t even remember what numbers are by the time Jonny’s done.

Then the captain steps back, leaving Lyf hanging in silence except for their own ragged breathing and the slow drip of something that could be either blood or cum. “Now _that’s_ how you take a punishment,” Jonny says, almost proud. “Take notes, von Raum. And then get out of my sight.”

Marius does his best, but as soon as he scrambles to his feet he nearly faceplants on the ground again, and Jonny catches him with an arm across his chest. As Lyf watches, he leans in closer and murmurs something to Marius, his veneer of evil giving way to tender concern, before Marius nods in response and Jonny walks him to the door. Lyf catches a glimpse of Brian and Ashes on the other side when it opens, ready to care for Marius, and then they’re gone and it’s just Jonny once again.

For a long moment, he just looks at them, studying their eyes and giving them time to collect themself, as much as they’re actually capable. “Color?”

“Green. As long as Marius is okay.”

Jonny responds with what can only be described as a disgusted smirk. “Gross. But yes, he’s alright. Do you need to check in with him?”

“I trust your judgment,” Lyf admits.

The smirk transforms into a sadistic sneer, and Jonny pats them on the shoulder as he heads for the box of mysteries one more time. “It’s your neck on the line. Literally. I think you’ll like my next gift.”

Lyf’s heart jumps into their throat as Jonny returns, holding another contraption that he carries with more reverence than any of the previous gear. It looks like a thin strip of wire bent in the shape of a horseshoe, with a small wooden block on each end and a screw loosely connecting the two blocks. The wood is dark and polished, the metal clean, and Lyf would almost assume that it was some sort of weird kitchen implement if Jonny weren’t already sliding the loop over their head. “You can thank Raphaella for this one,” he coos. “Ivy did most of the research, I believe, but Raph was responsible for crafting the prototype that I’m using here. See, I love a good garrote,” he explains, twisting the screw a few times until the steel is resting, delicate but constant, against Lyf’s neck. “But they tend to be so hands-on. Personally, I’d like to get my hands on  _ other  _ parts of you. So with this,” another turn of the screw and it’s tight enough to bruise, “I get the best of both worlds, so to speak.”

“This is how you’re going to kill me, then?” Lyf swallows, ignoring their instinctive shiver at the metal scraping their skin.

“Soon, soon. No need to be so horny for it.” Satisfied with the device, Jonny trails his hands down their bound torso, then drags one finger through Marius’s cum where it’s smeared in their pubic hair. “Just be glad that your  _ sweetheart  _ is so… productive, because this is all the lube you’re getting.”

With that, he presses two fingers into them, laughing softly when they moan and tip their head back. “F-fuck, Jonny.”

“That feels good, hm? Glad you’re enjoying yourself in your final moments.” He crooks his two fingers into them with a sardonic smile, then adds a third. “Marius did break you in nicely, I see. We’ll see if it’s enough for you to take my whole hand.”

Lyf’s breath catches in their chest. “I don’t know—I don’t know if I c-can…”

Jonny leans in and bites their lip, hanging on for just a second longer than a typical kiss, while Lyf rocks their hips into his hand and fails to stifle their whines. “I’m not giving you a choice, love.” Deciding that they’re taking three fingers easily enough, he adjusts his hand to slide his pinky into them, shaking his head when they struggle against the ropes. “As soon as you set foot on this ship, you were  _ mine.  _ And so this lovely cunt,” he punctuates the word with a slap that lands just above their clit, “belongs to me.”

Four fingers is a stretch, but Lyf admits to themself that it feels incredible, especially when Jonny’s flexing his fingers in smooth circles that draw them closer and closer to the edge with every second. He starts with his fingers together, but begins to twist and spread them as Lyf relaxes around him. “So good,” he murmurs, stroking their stomach with his other hand just to feel how it trembles with every breath. “So  _ sweet.  _ I think I can— _ oh,  _ yes, look how your cunt just swallows my knuckles like that.” Lyf can’t really see what’s going on, but they distinctively feel when Jonny’s hand sinks into them all the way to the base of his thumb. “How does that feel?”

“S-s-so much,” Lyf whines. “It’s—I—it’s so m-much, Jonny.”

Another slap, and this one  _ does  _ hit their clit, sending rays of stinging pain through their center. “If you don’t quit calling me that, I won’t let you come again before you die.”

A tear rolls down Lyf’s face, though they barely register the wetness. “‘M sorry, Captain.”

“That’s more like it.” Regardless, he reaches up to give the garrote a quarter turn; it takes Lyf a minute to realize that the breathy whistle they hear is coming from their own throat. “I can feel you fucking  _ fluttering  _ every time you come closer to choking. You’re going to enjoy this, aren’t you?”

It hurts, but Lyf manages a tiny nod.

“Thought so. Are you ready for my thumb? I’d really like to feel more of you than I am at the moment.”

“N-no,” mumbles Lyf, because Jonny’s fingers keep scissoring inside them and it stings every time, but a part of them— _ most  _ of them—is desperate to know what it feels like to have Jonny’s hand inside them.

Jonny, of course, is aware of that. “Good thing I don’t care,” he hisses, turning the garrote again as he pulls his hand out of them and draws his thumb along their slit to make sure it’s thoroughly slicked. “You’re going to come on my fist, and then you’re going to die. Captain’s orders.”

Lyf has nothing to hold on to, nothing to bite down on except their own lips, as Jonny presses back into them with all five fingers, meeting the resistance of his own knuckles with a frustration that makes them flush hotter than they already are. After a few tentative thrusts, he leans back and slaps their clit again, much harder this time, and Lyf barely hears him laughing to himself under the sound of their own strangled scream. “That’s more like it,” he soothes before adjusting the angle of his hand and finally pushing in all the way. “Oh, Lyf. You feel _delicious,_ clenching around my fist like that. Are you close?”

The intensity of the initial stretch has Lyf crying openly now, but with Jonny’s hand settled in them and his knuckles brushing their sweet spot with every motion, they can’t stop squirming for more. “Ye- _ es,  _ Captain.”

“What do you need from me? Use your words, Edda.”

“Please, please t-touch my clit, I’m—anything, I just—”

Jonny slaps their cunt so hard that they can only see red-white-nothing for a long second. “Like that?”

It’s not what they had in mind, but they’re not particularly surprised to find that their body is tingling at the edge of an orgasm. “More?”

“With pleasure.” He smacks them slowly, intentionally, watching every twist of their facial expression until, on the fourth slap, they shudder and break. The orgasm sweeps over them like wildfire, twisting their every breath and making them fall dizzy and soft into the ropes holding them up. Jonny reaches for the garrote again before they can come back to themself. One turn, and Lyf starts to gag; two, and their ears ring with every failed attempt at a breath; three, and they feel something warm oozing down from where the metal constricts their throat. It’s—they can’t see it, but the way Jonny laughs makes them think that the steel must be tight enough to break skin. The world is starting to go gray in the corners of their vision. “Beautiful,” whispers Jonny, before he starts fucking them with his fist hard enough to make them twitch and gush onto his wrist. He turns the screw again, struggling to increase the tension any more, and Lyf has just enough time to see him reach his free hand into his own pants before their eyes roll back in their head. For a moment, their lungs burn and their head throbs and the darkness gnaws at them like a scavenging beast, and then they’re gone.

Lyf wakes up to the feeling of fingers running through their hair. At first, they can’t get their eyes to open; it’s hard to breathe still and the sound of someone singing quietly above them could be a dream as easily as it could be reality. After a few minutes, they shift and feel… sore, mostly. Muscle aches, something weird in their shoulder, and stinging surface pain across their legs. They finally blink open bleary eyes to see Jonny looming over them, and the singing stops as he runs a thumb across their cheek.

“Joining the world of the living?” he hums, teasing apart a tangle in their hair. Lyf tries to nod, but it’s hard to move at all. “Good. I’m glad you’re back.”

As they drift back to consciousness, Lyf realizes that their head is resting in Jonny’s lap, and even though they’re still in the same cold metal room as before, they feel comfortable enough to float away. A glance down at themself shows that they’re wrapped in a thin blanket that may or may not have been crocheted by Jonny himself. There’s no one else in the room, as far as they can tell, but they’re content to let Jonny play with their hair and cradle their head for the time being. His voice is oddly soft when he speaks again—not just in volume, but with sheer tenderness. “How are you feeling?”

Lyf opens their mouth, but they have no clue how to express  _ sore floating away nothing everything sticky heavenly love you  _ when they’re still struggling to make any sound at all. “It’s alright if you’re not ready to talk yet,” Jonny reassures them. “Can you nod yes?”

They nod, despite the sharp ache in their throat.

“And can you shake your head no?”

That one is easier.

“Good. You were  _ so  _ good for me, Lyf, and you’re still being good. Are you warm enough?”

They have to think for a few seconds, because temperature is one sensation that hasn’t unsnared itself from all the other stimuli in the universe quite yet. After a breath, they shake their head. “Okay. Thank you for letting me know,” Jonny says, before pulling another blanket out from behind himself and smoothing it over their body. “Is—is the… touching okay?”

Lyf figures he’s referring to his fingers in their hair, which almost makes them laugh, because they’d be curled up in his lap if they could move right now. “Mhm.”

Jonny smiles down at them, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “I don’t want to overwhelm you,” he reassures, “but I’d also rather not keep you in this, uh, torture chamber for too long. I cleaned—I got most of the blood off you, but you’re still fairly sticky. Would you like to get cleaned up a bit more?”

“‘S please,” Lyf mumbles, before turning their head into the hand stroking their hair so they can kiss his palm. “Definitely can’t walk.”

“I figured.” He rubs a hand across their shoulder and down their arm. “Marius is waiting for us in your room. Shall we go there?”

At the thought of curling up in Marius’s arms, Lyf nods a bit more emphatically and turns onto his side, though Jonny stops them before they can try to sit up. “Relax, Lyf. Like you said, you’re in no state to be walking. Can I pick you up?”

They nod, ignoring the way they blush at the thought, and wrap their shaky arms around Jonny’s neck to hold on while he gathers them up and gets to his feet. Looking down, they note a small pool of half-dried blood where they’d been laying, which lines up with most of their bodily sensations at the moment. “How far?” they ask Jonny.

“Five minutes at most. Are you alright? Not dizzy or nauseous or anything?”

“‘M fine,” they respond, lips pressed against his skin where the collar of his shirt is pulled low enough to give them access. “Like being held.”

He’s definitely blushing. Lyf makes a mental note to tease him about it later. “Good. You just… snooze, okay? We’ll be back in your room soon.”

As much as Lyf resents following orders in their space pirate life, they’re happy to rest in Jonny’s arms while he carries them through winding corridors and past parts of the ship they’ve never seen before. The Aurora is a labyrinthine creature, so they’re not surprised. Distantly, they muse that the torture chamber was a nice touch. Not something they expected, even from Jonny. That thought fades into a pleasant buzz by the time they return to more familiar territory, and Lyf is all but drifting when the door to their (and Marius’s) pod slides open.

“There you are! I was starting to wonder if I should ask the ship to track you both down.” The genuine joy in Marius’s voice makes Lyf smile before they can even process who’s talking to them, which is a relief, given that they last saw him sobbing and barely able to stand. “How are you, my love?”

His face floats into view above them, and Lyf lets go of Jonny to reach out for him, sliding onto unsteady feet as Jonny sets them down. “I’ll go get the shower running,” Jonny says, one hand rubbing Lyf’s shoulder. “They’re still pretty grimy under the blankets.”

“Thanks,” Lyf calls, before burying their face in Marius’s bare chest and practically crashing into him. “I think… I need to sleep for a few months.”

Marius’s sternum vibrates under them as he laughs. “That was one hell of a scene! I can’t remember the last time Jonny did something like that for _me._ Not that I’m complaining. I, um, I thoroughly enjoyed my role. Was that—was it what you wanted?”

The uncertainty in his voice runs deep enough that they look up to meet his eyes before replying. “Yes. Absolutely. That was fucking incredible.”

“I’m sorry, were you trying to praise me behind my back?” Jonny interrupts from the bathroom door. “Shower’s ready. Get in here and tell me how great I am to my face.”

Lyf does exactly that, though they’re still slurring their words and struggling to form a sentence. In the shower, they lean on Marius to stay upright while Jonny washes their hair and scrubs the last of the blood from their skin. The brand on their shoulder is already beginning to fade, but Jonny still cleans it with impossibly gentle fingers before moving on to the welts on their thighs. By the time he’s done, Lyf is shivering, though they can’t tell if it’s because they’re cold or they have no idea how to process Jonny doting on them like this. “Kinda wanna blow you,” Lyf mutters when Jonny lifts a hand to their face to check on them.

“Next time. I—I already got off, don’t worry about it. And we need to get you warmed up.”

They roll their eyes, but still plant their face in his shoulder just to feel the vivid heat of his skin. “Didn’t get to touch you enough.”

Marius laughs against their back. “C’mon, sweetheart, you can give him feedback once we’re in bed.”

Once they’re all dry and settled in comfortable clothes, most of which belong to Marius and are therefore way too big for the others, Lyf crawls into bed and curls up with their head pillowed on Jonny’s chest. “Do you need anything else? Other than sleep?” Jonny asks them, while Marius snuggles up to their back.

“Just wanna be here. With you.”

He squirms under the weight of Lyf’s affection, but buries his hand in his hair and kisses their forehead regardless. “I can do that.”

All three of them are quiet for a few minutes, which is long enough for Marius to start snoring, before Jonny stirs again. “I know you’re—you’re probably half asleep, sorry. Just… was that good? I didn’t overdo it, right?”

“It was amazing,” Lyf responds, tipping their head up so they can look him in the eyes. “That was everything I needed, Jonny. Don’t sit there stewing in your thoughts, okay?”

Jonny just scowls at them, though his face smooths out when Lyf tilts their head up to kiss him. “Fiiine. Marius? How are you?”

“‘M cool,” Marius sighs into Lyf’s hair. “Had Brian therapy. Good cry. All that.”

“Is that… generally part of your post-coital experience?” Lyf asks, because they figure they would’ve noticed that by now.

Their snark wakes Marius up a bit more. “Nah. I honestly didn’t expect to get so. Um. Vulnerable?”

“Was—when you safeworded,” Jonny cuts in, “was that it? I don’t want to press you on it, I just—I’d like to know where that boundary is.”

Lyf rolls onto their back so that they can see Marius, keeping their head on Jonny’s shoulder. “It’s…” Marius heaves a sigh and scrubs a hand across his eyes. “You both know that I’m, y’know, very skilled at repressing the fuck out of my emotions.”

“I’m shocked,” Jonny deadpans.

“Yeah, shut up. What I’m  _ saying  _ is that I don’t—I don’t let myself feel anything. And then sometimes something will break through, and without fail, someone else comes in and says  _ no, Marius, you have no reason to be angry,  _ or  _ no, Marius, that can’t be right,  _ or  _ no, Marius, you can’t be in love with a human,  _ and I feel like I’m just. Nothing. If that makes sense.”

Jonny and Lyf stay silent for a moment, letting Marius breathe through his frustration while they process his words. “I understand that,” Jonny says at last.

“I know you love me,” Lyf adds. “I have never doubted that. Well, not since you broke out of prison, at least.”

That gets a soft laugh out of Marius, and he leans down to kiss them. “I know, Lyf. It’s not—I’m not upset with either of you, and I know you didn’t mean it like that, Jonny. And I’m sorry for scaring you.”

Jonny reassures him with an uncharacteristically soft kiss. He looks so  _ young, _ his eyeliner washed off and his face unguarded for once, that Lyf can’t keep quiet. “Love you, Jonny.”

He freezes. “I—you—no, you don’t.”

A beat passes, then Lyf and Marius share an exasperated look. “Yes we do,” Marius replies firmly. “Go to sleep, Jonny.”

“Hmph.”

Despite his vehement denial, Jonny still falls asleep with his limbs wrapped around Lyf and his forehead pressed against Marius’s chin, so they consider that a small victory. And when he wakes up from a nightmare, gasping and crying, they stay with him until he’s calm enough to be held again, and some miniscule part of Jonny actually starts to believe them.

**Author's Note:**

> y'all ive written like 40k words this month. i havent written this much since i was 13 and rapidly churning my teenage trauma into MCR fanfic. kinda like that one guy in tma with the meat grinder? i think ive been cursed. save me
> 
> ANYWAY I'm planning to do mechs femslash week so I'll be back in 2 days lol. buckle up. I could use a break from smut though, I'm getting sick of going to thesaurus dot com and searching "squirm" "whimper" "moan" "wet" etc etc over and over again. I desperately want to apologize for my writing style because revising this is driving me insane, but I'm also trying to force myself to have some modicum of self-confidence!!! Fuck!!!! Hope y'all like gerunds.
> 
> as always pls let me know if I missed any tags, and please leave a comment if you feel so kind!!! I genuinely sit there refreshing my ao3 inbox while I'm at work because how the fuck else am i supposed to survive retail. thank you to the friends who helped me with various aspects of this fic, u know who u are ;) also i am alderations on tumblr and alderwrites on twitter, come hang out!! i post pictures of my snakes. thank u for reading. kiss urself on the forehead for me. goodnight.


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